


Reeds In The Water

by cellard00rs



Series: CSAC series [11]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Adventure & Romance, First Time, Fluff, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Sibling Incest, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:54:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26277475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cellard00rs/pseuds/cellard00rs
Summary: Preston and Ford go on an adventure, aka, the sexual awakening of Preston Northwest.
Relationships: Ford Pines/Stan Pines, Preston Northwest/Ford Pines, Preston Northwest/Ford Pines/Stan Pines, Preston Northwest/Stan Pines
Series: CSAC series [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/442447
Comments: 5
Kudos: 20





	1. Chapter 1

“And you’re sure you’re completely packed?”

“I dunno. I mean, I probably wasn’t the first three hundred times ya asked me, so you might as well go ahead and go for three hundred and one. Maybe even two!”

“Stanley…” Ford’s voice comes out stern and long suffering, yet Preston can’t help chuckling at it, even as he turns the page of his newspaper. He’s caught between reading an article about the new overpass going up near the 405 and knowing for a fact that Stanley is going to be a big part of that. Hence the packing. He fidgets slightly where he sits, thinking of how Stanley will be gone on this job for well over a week.

An entire week…

True, it’s nothing like when he left for months back before…well, _everything_. Everything that happened, everything that changed. But still, the last time Stanley Pines was away from his brother for a lengthy period, it did not go over well. Ford was a wreck without his twin and while Preston had been there to offer his support and friendship, it…it hadn’t been enough.

…so, facing this now, knowing what came before…

Preston shifts again and readjusts the paper, the print floating in front of his vision, but with no true meaning. He picks up various phrases, like ‘traffic relief’ and ‘temporary detours,’ but he can’t focus enough to connect it to a true read, lost now in the miasma of his own worries.

While it’s funny to hear Ford ask about the packing again, it is most assuredly _not_ funny to think of how he’ll be without his brother close at hand. Yes, they’ve all become something far more than roommates. But their whole relationship is new. Fragile. The three of them are all involved with one another now, engaged in what Preston has come to acknowledge as a polyamorous affair, but it’s…still…well, _something_.

His face contorts some, annoyed with his inability to think of it all clearly and cleanly. But then, it was never meant to be that way, was it? After all, Stanford and Stanley are _twins_. They’re twins and they started off in an incestual engagement – that alone was far beyond what the average soul would consider clear and clean. And now here he is, his own hat in the ring, making things even more complex.

The three of them – a bizarre, romantically entangled trinity that goes beyond comprehension, beyond definition, beyond-!

“What about socks? Did you pack socks?”

“Nah, I want to get blisters. A whole pack of ‘em.”

Something crashes into Preston’s side and he realizes it’s Ford, who’s thrown himself down dramatically onto the futon next to him. Recognizing the paper as the lost cause it is, Preston puts it down to one side, pleased for the distraction from his musings, “Problem?”

Ford’s arms are crossed and he is the picture of pouty, “Yeah, my brother’s an asshole.”

“Hey!” Stan cries, “How am I an asshole for getting sick of you haranguin’ me left an’ right?”

“’Harang’-?” Preston starts but Stan cuts him off, “Yeah, yeah! Fancy, five dollar words ain’t just something you two nerds get to toss around. Haranguing is in my vocabulary! Just as much as impede, cease, and hinder – all meanin’ pretty much the same exact dang thing: stop. As in, stop, Ford – leave me alone and let me get this done, will ya?”

Ford’s mouth drops open, his stunned look bordering on comical, “Get what done? I thought you just confirmed that you’re completely packed!”

“I AM, ya knucklehead! But you badgerin’ me with questions makes me second guess myself! Now, like I toldja, I got my socks, my shirts, my jeans – a perfect number of each so I can properly change, as well as underwear, since you vetoed me goin’ commando.”

Preston’s nose wrinkles, “You’d planned on being without undergarments?”

“Easier access if y’all decide to come visit,” Stan teases, waggling his eyebrows only to burst out into big guffaws at Preston’s reaction, “Relax, Pres. Know you two ain’t comin’ by. After all, I got a busy week ahead of me and so do you, what wit-!”

The next word was probably going to be ‘with’ but it dies a quick death as Stan stands up straighter, clearing his throat. At first Preston has no idea as to why, but then he recognizes that there’s rapid jostling from where Ford is sitting, and that gives him a clue. He turns to see the last few moments of Ford wildly waving his arms about. Arms which slowly retreat down, Ford looking…suspicious.

Preston turns back to Stan, who is blatantly avoiding eye contact and yes, yes – something is _very_ suspicious indeed. Though Preston cannot imagine for the life of him what. Does Ford have something in mind for them this week? What on earth can it possibly be? It would certainly be…nice, but Preston honestly didn’t think Ford would be up for anything.

Indeed, Preston had already been racking his own brain for ideas on how to keep _Ford_ entertained. True, they both have their occupations, but even that won’t fill up the entire time. And at least the last time Stan had gone, there’d been school as a distraction - this time there will be no such reprieve, currently resting in the tail end of summer as they are.

So what to do, what to do? Preston has been toying about with the idea of various day trips – the local museums, plays – things he thought would keep Ford’s mind off his brother, but now it appears Ford has plans of some sort. Plans that apparently include him and he wants to ask as to what they are when he suddenly notices that Ford is no longer next to him, instead he’s close to the front door where Stan looks…ready.

Swallowing thickly, Preston rises himself, brushing suddenly damp palms down his perfectly pressed dress slacks.

 _Honestly_.

He’s a _Northwest_.

He didn’t use to be so damned… _emotional_. Yet here he is, feeling a bit choked up at the sight of Stanley Pines going away for a week. Stan has a big, heavily stuffed duffle bag over one shoulder and a grin on his face, “Aw, come on, you guys. I’m not going off to war.”

“Doesn’t mean I won’t miss you,” Ford mumbles dejectedly and Stan rubs an affectionate hand over his brother’s beanie, nearly taking it off. Ford smacks him away with a quick ‘cut it out’, then readjusts it before giving Stan a warm kiss goodbye. It lasts a while. A…long while. Preston scratches at the back of his neck, wondering if he should look away, when it softly breaks – Stan’s hand behind Ford’s neck easing him forward enough so that their foreheads touch.

He whispers something, something Preston can’t hear, but Ford just chuckles and rolls his eyes before drawing away and turning to Preston, jerking a thumb over in his brother’s direction. Preston understands the ‘your turn’ motion; but isn’t sure if he should actually follow it.

Stan makes the decision for him with a hefty grunt of, “C’mere, prince,” as he grabs Preston by the knot of the neatly tied sweater around his shoulders, fingertips just brushing the bare skin between it and his polo shirt as he’s hauled over, their lips meeting in a hot rush. As always, Preston feels as if he’s been struck dumb, so much so that when Stan eases back he rocks on his feet some, lightheaded.

Stan looks between the two of them, “Alright, that’s enough of that. I’ll see you two in a week.”

His hand goes for the doorknob but Ford stops him, voice full of worry, “And you’ll call?”

“Every night, Ma…” is Stan’s firm promise and Ford just looks heavenwards, rising and falling in a sheer, ‘heaven help me’ reaction. Preston grins even as he inclines his head to one side, “We would certainly appreciate it, Stanley. Your brother in particular.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know. Still thinkin’ it’s a little futile though,” he looks devilish as he adds, “All things considered…”

And he shares another look with Ford. One of those looks that twins share that’s full of secrets and really, Preston’s about to reach the end of his own rope. Here he’s been vexed about Ford and these two are having their own secret tête-à-tête. What is going on here? What are they saying to one another without saying anything at all?

Whatever it is, it draws to a close as Stan finally opens the door and steps out. But just before he closes it behind himself, he tosses out an enigmatic, “Now, don’t you two go wearing yourselves out while I’m gone, huh? Save a lil’ bit for ol’ Stanley when he comes home.”

The door closes and Preston just stares at it, completely at a loss. What on earth does that mean? Shaking his head to himself, he turns to face Ford, comforting remarks at the ready, “Don’t worry, Stanford. I’m sure he’ll b- _mmnf_!”

The rest of this planned sentence was ‘be fine’. However, it’s not completed, because Ford has bodily thrown himself at Preston, capturing his mouth with his. Preston, cut off mid-word, only manages a surprised hum, shock shooting throughout every nerve. More so, because Ford has him pressed hard against the back of the front door and _oh_ …

Ford’s fingers, all twelve of them, thread through Preston’s thick dark hair, nails dragging deliciously along his scalp before trailing down, running along the bare skin at the nape of his neck, making him shudder, because _Jesus_. Preston’s never been under such a fervent sensual assault. Ford’s head angles to make the contact deeper, his tongue sliding temptingly along Preston’s, urging it to respond.

Preston’s arms, dead weights hanging on either side of his body up until this point, rise swiftly, embracing Ford fully, capturing him close as he finally gets with the program. He returns this unexpected kiss, returns this unexpected passion, with a matching intensity.

He and Ford have shared a few kiss – some good, some great – some, sadly, miserable (like their first). But this kiss? This kiss is blowing all of those out of the water. It’s full of desire and heat and Preston’s earlier noise of alarm has melted into one of pure pleasure. Preston feels completely kowtowed, body bowing, bending down and up, as if to surge more into the sheer force of Stanford’s kiss, his touch.

Arousal is crackling throughout his system – a wild, chaotic jolt of energy leaving sparks from the top of his head to the soles of his feet. Before this, before Ford and Stanley, Preston repressed all his desires, all his wants. Now? The freedom they’ve given him, the permission from them to release it? It’s almost more than he can take. He feels mad with it, wild and giddy and, above all, ravenous.

As such, it’s Ford who draws back first, peeling his lips away with a loud inhale, his breathing nothing but heavy pants and Preston finds himself much the same, entirely without breath and what feels like very little sanity. Still, as Ford moves out of his grip, as he moves away so that they can both slowly come down from the high of their contact, Preston finds enough of it to remark dryly, “I’m...perplexed.”

Ford manages a shaky, winded laugh and Preston really wants to talk more but it’s…difficult. Again, proper lucidity is a struggle after such an ardent moment. He wants to ask what all that was about. He wants to ask Ford if he’s okay. He wants to ask something about Stanley…and Stanley…what about him again?

Oh, yes – he’s just left and Preston was expecting Ford to be bereft. Not…whatever he just was once the door closed. And as he’s trying to think of how to best ask, something better than just announcing that he’s confused, Ford beats him to it, “So…Stan and I have been talking.”

“Oh, no,” is Preston’s automatic reaction, because when Stan and Ford talk, a variety of things can happen. Usually insane, crazy things. Things that can get all of them into trouble. Ford seems to recognize the remark for what it is and, if anything, it just makes his smile wider, the glint in his eyes happily mischievous, “Yeah, and see…”

He moves closer and Preston can literally feel his own IQ drop, hearts no doubt above his head, “…it occurred to us that you kind of went from zero to a hundred when it comes to relationships.”

“Indeed?”

Ford hums in agreement, “You never really dated Rafe, you had one outing with Drake, and both Stanley and I started off as ruses. But then after everything with your father we became…y’know, what we are now.”

Preston can only offer a nod, because he’s not sure what else he can offer. Everything Ford is saying is true, but he’s not sure where he is going with this. Ford wraps his arms around Preston’s neck and looks up into his eyes.

Ford is by no means short, but he _is_ the shortest of the three of them. Preston is the tallest by an inch or two (much to Stan’s annoyance) and having the elder Pines twin look up at him…those caramel colored eyes so full of warmth and affection…he wants to kiss him again, but holds off, wanting to hear what he has to say, “And what we are now is wonderful, but it’s also a lot. It’s a lot to go from no relationship to dating two people simultaneously.”

Now fear creeps under Preston’s skin, sending a chill through him as he whispers, “Are-are you saying this…this is…ending?”

It’s hard to get the words out. To even endure the concept. But Preston’s aware of his shortcomings and how close the twins are, and if they have begun to view this as some sort of mistake…

It’s the right call. Having Ford express it to him. Ford would be the best choice to break this to him easily, but it turns out Preston’s doubts are unfounded as Ford gasps, “What? No! No, of course not!”

Preston wasn’t even aware he went rigid until he relaxes, shoulders going lax as Ford continues, “What I’m saying is – Stan and I had some time to be together, solely us. All of our life, when you think about it. Yes, we became romantically involved later, but we got time to process that and just be together that way for a while before you became a part of this, so…”

He lets out a hefty sigh, “I’m-I’m explaining this poorly. What I’m _trying_ to say is, Stan and I think it’s only fair that you get to experience what it’s like to be the sole focus of someone’s attention. To see what it’s like to be part of a twosome.”

“A-?” Preston feels like a complete ignoramus, blinking stupidly as he tries to comprehend everything Ford’s just laid out. Ford draws his arms back, hands resting on Preston’s shoulders and squeezing there, “I’m saying – this week? This week it’s going to be just you and I. Just us.”

Preston starts to repeat the words but only manages a whisper of sound. Ford’s hands move up to cup his face in his hands, his whole expression adoring, “I want to date you, Preston. I want to have you all for myself.”

If it’s possible for a human being to melt away into a puddle, Preston is sure, in this moment, he will. His hands cover Ford’s, “Are-are you sure? Is this-? Is this not…not disingenuous to Stanley? To our-?”

Ford shakes his head adamantly, “No, no. Remember, _we_ were the ones who talked about this. Stanley and I. Heck, most of the ideas of what we can do this week _came_ from him. It has his stamp of approval on it. He knows how it was the last time he left and, while this is only for a week, he was the one who began to worry about my being…melancholy over the whole thing.”

When Ford says ‘melancholy’ it comes out in a sing-song sort of way that expresses he’s embarrassed by the whole thing. As if he overreacted the last time. Preston doesn’t think he overacted and would say as much, but Ford barrels on, “And while I _will_ miss Stanley, I have no doubt he’ll come back. I know it’s not like before. I know he’s committed to me. To us. But…that being said,” his eyes search Preston’s face, a blush rising as he softly admits, “I won’t mind the distraction…”

“Am I to take it _I’m_ that distraction?” it’s asked in a teasing husk and Ford chuckles thickly, eyes on Preston’s mouth, “Maybe…”

They kiss again, less heatedly this time, but with no less emotion. When Ford draws away he touches his forehead to Preston’s, “So, what do you say? Want to date me this week?”

“I wish to date you always,” Preston affirms tenderly, “But yes, I must admit, it’s a welcome diversion, your idea.”

“ _Our_ idea,” Ford adds and Preston knows the ‘our’ refers to Ford _and_ Stan. Their credo omnipresent – ‘we’ before ‘I’. His lips jerk about his face some, fighting off a smile. Funny the two should worry about him dating two people at once. Honestly, it sometimes feels as if it’s just one person, but in two separate bodies.

What would such an entity be called? They both already share the ‘Stan’ part of their names. Regardless, he finds himself completely charmed and smitten by their thoughtfulness. The fact they would both wish for him to have the full experience of love, of dating, of being desired…

Truly, it’s not something either of them should concern themselves with. He _does_ feel that way. For the first time in his twenty three years, he feels like people love him, care about him. But that doesn’t mean he’s going to turn down this chance. A whole week of Stanford all to himself? Not only will it be a joy to experience, but it will also give him things to hold over Stanley’s head, things to tease him with.

Stan’s had Ford his whole life. They have a wealth of inside jokes and personal, shared experiences. Preston can see how they might see it as only fair for him to get a chance to make some of his own. Yes, there was the whole affair at his family’s estate, but that hadn’t been genuine. While it might have led them to where they are now, the entirety of that event was predicated upon their engaging in an ill-conceived farce orchestrated by his father.

What Ford is purposing is something else entirely. Something where the two of them can truly connect on an intimate level. No worries, no anxieties, no falsehoods. They are, in fact, involved romantically now, so anything they do is more than acceptable. Especially if Stanley has given it his blessing and while Preston appreciates that, he wonders if his other lover knows exactly what position he’s put himself into.

Something must reflect on Preston’s face at this thought, because Ford asks dryly, “What?”

“What?”

“What, what – don’t ‘what’ me,” Ford laughs, “You got that little light in your eyes. The one that says you’re up to something…”

“Why _me_?” Preston gestures to himself, his tone full of exaggerated surprise, “Never!”

“Pres…”

“Very well. If you must know, it occurred to me that, by gifting me this opportunity, Stanley has set us up for our own adventures. _Ours_ , you understand. The two of us _solely_. The jokes, the escapades, the experiences…”

“…that was the idea…” Ford says cautiously, obviously unsure as to where Preston is going with this.

“Naturally! And while we certainly had those sort of interactions when he left all those months ago, that period had been steeped in unpleasantness. This? This will be quite different. This time we are assured of his return and since he has been gracious enough to bestow this gift upon me, I shall have to see it used to its full advantage.”

“Oh, lord,” Ford groans, rubbing at his face , “I get it now, this is another one of those competitive things!”

“Competitive?” asks Preston as if he doesn’t know and Ford is just shaking his head, “Yes! You know _exactly_ what I’m talking about – you and Stanley may be crazy about one another, but you also love driving one another cray-z!” he stresses the last in a different way to get his point across, “Stanley and I certainly have our fair share of sibling rivalry, but what you two have is far beyond that. It’s why we no longer have board games in this place!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he sniffs but Ford is undeterred, “You’re telling me you _don’t_ recall the ‘Battle Chutes & Ladder Ships’ fiasco?”

“Well…”

“Or how about the ‘Shh, Don’t Wake Stalin’ debacle? The ‘What Could Go Wrong’ game! I can TELL you what went wrong! And don’t even get me _started_ on when I actually got you both to play D, D, and more D with me…”

“It’s just harmless fun…”

“You pulled out a _sword_ , Preston. An actual _sword_.”

“Oh, so I’m just supposed to be ashamed of my ancient weapons collection? I’ll have you know that that was no ordinary sword, but an accurate replica of the very sword used by the parliament of the Isle of Man at the annual Tynwald ceremo-!”

“I don’t care WHAT it was! You brandished it about like it was a butter knife while Stanley drew out a set of nunchucks that Jimmy Snakes sent him! Then you both proceeded to fling your weapons around like mad men while I had duck and cover, so if this is going to be anything like that…”

“It won’t be,” Preston vows firmly and now he’s the one to place his hands on Ford’s shoulders, to caress them soothingly, “I…promise I’ll do my best to behave. Keep my gloating to a minimum.”

“Mmm hmm,” Ford hums, clearly unconvinced, but finally giving into the smile he’s been unable to fight off, “Besides, it’s…silly. To think spending time with me is some sort of-of grand prize to lord over…”

“It is,” Preston promises, one hand ducking under Ford’s chin to tip it up, their eyes locking, “I assure you it is.”

They share another sweet kiss and when they draw away this time, Ford sways on his feet from side to side, clearly keyed up, “Okay, well…like I said, Stan and I talked about this, so…I’ve already got a few things planned.”

“Do you?”

“Yeah, so – looks like we’re packing.”

“Are we? Where are we-?”

“Shh,” Ford presses his fingers to Preston’s lips, then another kiss, before drawing back and talking over his shoulder as he moves towards his bedroom, “No more questions! Get packed! We’ll leave in, oh,” he checks the watch on his fitbit, “I’d say about an hour.”

“I see. Well then, I’ll get myself situated. And no worries! I’ll pack the appropriate sundries. Socks, changes of apparel, underwear…”

Ford turns then and shoots him a coquettish look before purring, “You might not need those…”

These words draw Preston up to his full height, his jaw actually dropping some, heart thudding hard, cheeks bursting into flame as Ford smirks seductively before slowly closes his door behind himself.


	2. Chapter 2

“Now don’t get mad…” Ford starts and Preston arches one perfectly shaped eyebrow at him, “Why would I be mad?”

He asks it in the way that indicates he’s never once been cross with Ford. Which is laughable. Ford knows better. While it’s true that, despite their past, wherein Ford was the target of Preston’s bullying, the two of them have gotten along companionably, they have had their disagreements. Nothing to the level Preston has had with Stanley, but they’ve certainly gotten under one another’s skin.

It’s rare these days, but it’s happened, and Ford feels like it might happen now as he winces, “Well, I mean, in order to-to make this work, I…well, I kind of had to contact your boss…”

“Bruce?” Preston lets slip, then corrects himself with a short cough, “I-I mean, Mr. Kincaid?”

The omission makes Ford grin, because it’s good to hear. Initially Preston had been used by his father to loop Bruce Kincaid into a merger of their respective companies. But through various this and that’s, Kincaid had instead taken Preston under his wing. In some ways, Bruce is much more of a father to Preston than Josiah (or, as it turned out, Auldman) Northwest has ever been.

Same for Bruce’s partner, Hal. They’re like Preston’s adopted Dads and it always warms Ford to know his boyfriend now has this. While things are still rocky between Ford and his own father, he still feels (despite Stan’s objections) that they have something of a family. Something Preston, apparently, has never had at all.

Bruce and Hal provide Preston with a kind of familial bond, a sense of kin. Ford and Stan are involved with him, sure, but there’s something to be said for having platonic, loving bonds. Bruce and Hal provide that, playing the role of parents, albeit surrogate ones. Ford nudges him, “You can call him Bruce. I won’t tell on you.”

Preston adjusts the sweater tied about his shoulders, obviously uncomfortable, “I’m merely giving my employer the reverence he is due.”

Ford snorts, “Oh come on, Pres! Even if I did tell, I don’t think he would mind. After all he…” and this is where Ford remembers that, oh yes, he asked Preston not to be mad with him and didn’t exactly explain why, “…he, uh, he…see…this-this is where I don’t want you to get mad...”

“I thought you were referring to contacting him? Which, I assume, you did in order to secure my time off to go on this venture?”

“Yes. Well, no. Well, I-I mean…” Ford is tripping all over his words and feeling stupider and stupider as each minute passes. Ask him something about geometry or science or physics and he’s a genius. Ask him about personal things and he becomes as dumb as a stump. 

Growling to himself, he tries again, “I did contact him to ask if you could have the week off. And when he asked why I-I explained that we would be going away and then he asked some more questions and I, I told him…”

“You told him?” Preston asks in a way to encourage Ford to continue as Ford trails off for quite a while after this announcement. Ford finds Preston hard to read and his anxiety is going all over the place, so he knows he just needs to get this all over with. It’s like ripping off a band-aid, right? 

Letting out an explosive breath he quickly tells him, all the words tangled therein, “I-told-him-I-wanted-to-take-you-on-a-trip-and-he-told-me-we-could-stay-at-his-cabin-and-I-said-yes.”

At each word, Preston’s head jerks up and down, as if bouncing along with each in order to catch its meaning. At the end, he merely smiles, “Oh, is that all?”

“…you’re…not mad?”

“Not at all,” Preston reassures him with a quick hand smoothing down his shoulder, “Why, it’s common place within the jet set. Allowing others to use your lodgings. A simple courtesy.”

Ford regards him speculatively, “So, what? Like, for the upper class loaning out your fancy property to one another is akin to loaning someone your cell phone to make a call?”

“I’d say we guard our phones much more scrupulously,” he winks, “Corporate secrets, financial dealings – a lot of important information is stored on a phone. Our leisurely quarters are just that – places used for empty fun. Nothing too troublesome stored there, especially if you have a crackerjack cleaning team in your employ, which, I assure you, the best of us do.”

“Man, Stan wasn’t wrong,” Ford sighs, “Rich people really _are_ another species…”

“Hmm, an edible one, if the internet is to be believed,” Preston tosses out with a smirk and Ford chuckles, well aware of the ‘Eat the Rich’ slogan. It occurs to him that, if Stanley were here, he would make the obvious dirty joke. A very simple double entendre. Especially considering what Ford _actually_ has in mind for this weekend.

He thinks of making said joke; but dismisses it just as quickly. One, because it’s more Stanley’s style than his and two, because if he tried to make it, it would come out weird and awkward. He’d stutter all over it and turn several different shades of red. Risqué talk is not really in his wheelhouse. Or, well, it _can_ be – but he has to be in the right frame of mind for it.

Outside of their apartment complex on the sidewalk, Preston next to him, their bags at their feet, is not the time for it. Preston, unaware of Ford’s internal monologue, asks, “Am I to take it that he is also providing our transport? You said I didn’t need to contact my driver.”

“Yeah, I hope that’s okay too. As a matter of fact,” Ford points down the street where the traffic is passing them, easily spotting a fancy vehicle headed in their direction. Bruce told Ford he would not only provide his cabin, but passage there as well, and Ford begged him not to do anything too ostentatious. It’s not that Ford wasn’t grateful for the man’s help, but he often found himself uncomfortable with the full breadth of monied extravagance.

When Ford had been posing as Preston’s partner at his father’s estate, Stanley worried Ford would be won over by all the wealth. That he would want that kind of lifestyle, a lifestyle Stanley felt he couldn’t provide. As Ford assured him then, he needn’t have worried. While Ford can appreciate such privilege, it isn’t something he would want to bask in twenty four seven. There’s something to be said for a simpler existence.

Frankly, Ford isn’t sure how Preston deals with it. How he doesn’t find it suffocating. But then, he’d been raised differently. Was it difficult for him to live with Stan and himself? Was it harder moving down than up? He can’t say for sure, but he can say he’s glad to see a Rolls Royce headed their way as opposed to a limousine. Fancy, yes, but not noticeably so…unless you know a lot about vehicles.

Which, unsurprisingly, Preston does, “A Rolls! Excellent! And a Phantom no less! Wonder when Bruce acquired this beauty.”

Ford looks around to see if anyone is reacting to the car’s presence. Not that they should and not that he should care, but still, he finds his head instinctively craning around. Considering there’s no big reaction from anyone, he relaxes considerably. Climbing into the back seat of the car, however, he notices that it’s very state of the art. The plush white leather hugs him with a kind of opulence that feels a tad bit obscene.

However, the driver has kind eyes and a warm voice, “Hello, gentlemen. My name is Onika and I’ll be your chauffeur towards Lake Tahoe and Mr. Kincade’s private estate. If you require anything, please feel free to let me know.”

They both thank her, although Preston addresses her by name and Ford by ‘ma’am’, she giggles at that, “Please, please – just…call me, Onika, kid. That ‘ma’am’ stuff drives me crazy.”

“Oh! Okay, Onika,” Ford corrects himself and then looks to Preston with some surprise, “How did you get that right and I didn’t?”

“I’ve had Onika as a chauffeur before. She’s an excellent driver,” Preston confides and Onika waves a hand, “That’s true, money britches, and you should say it.”

Ford mouths ‘money britches’ at him and Preston just shrugs. Onika smoothly pulls out into the busy thoroughfare even as Ford looks at Preston with some wonder, “You know…you’ve really changed.”

This gets a questionable hum and Ford just grins at him, voice soft, “The Preston I knew only a year or so ago would have probably thrown a fit being called that. But now, you’re…you just…” he looks at him and suddenly can’t help himself, lunging across the open space to give Preston a quick kiss. Now Preston colors, clearing his throat right after, “Oh, uh…well-?”

He eyes the rearview mirror, clearly wondering if Onika saw that exchange. But if she did, she doesn’t remark on it, her eyes firmly on the road. Preston looks at Ford, “I…shall admit some-some growth in my character. No doubt influenced by Bruce and Hal and your brother…” he finds one of Ford’s hands, holding and squeezing it before kissing the back tenderly, “But starting with you, dearest.”

The sound that leaves Ford is part sweet, part humiliating. Basically because it’s sort of a bashful giggle snort. But it can’t be helped. He’s still not used to _that_ nickname. Sixer, Poindexter, Knucklehead, Fordsy…those are titles he can handle. Dear or Dearest? He falls apart. Stam suffers under the same aliment now and then. Ford’s seen it. Preston has that skill – making them both turn into overly-flattered messes.

Not that they can’t do the same to him. Or to each other. Thinking of this, beyond happy, Ford squeezes Preston’s hand back and settles in for the ride.

+

“Whoa…” Ford breathes as he exits the car.

The A-Frame wooden cabin before them is gorgeous. Boasting large windows, fantastic decks, and the lake – the lake is so close. A dock from the back porch leads straight out into it, making Ford think of the docks he grew up seeing on Glass Shard.

But unlike those rickety terrors, this dock is firm, sturdy, and calling to him. He and Stanley used to leap off the docks when they were kids, cannonballing into the sea. The thought of doing so again, and into waters that are actually pristine, and not potentially filled with the grimy toxins Glass Shard’s waves used to hold…

“Do you like it?” Preston asks and Ford turns to him with a dry laugh, “Shouldn’t I be asking _you_ that question?”

“Well, you’re the one looking at it as if it’s one of the seven wonders,” Preston teases and Ford can’t deny it, “It’s amazing. I love it! The-the shape of it…” he fishes out the wooden necklace Stan made for him from beneath his shirt, raising it up so Preston can see it, “Something about triangles, I dunno…”

“I see. Makes sense. I myself must admit some affinity for threes,” the joke doesn’t go over Ford’s head and he huffs out a laugh, muttering a soft ‘touché’ beneath his breath. Three sides of this cabin, three sides of a triangle, three sides of their relationship. Preston continues on drolly, “I shall have to endeavor to see you residing in a cabin similar to this one day.”

“What? To live?” Ford asks skeptically and Preston’s tone is easy, “Why not?”

“Why not?” he repeats with a snort, “Because – even if I, I don’t know, make some money someday as-as a scientist, I don’t see how I can live in an _actual_ cabin. Or a house or a townhouse or-” he shrugs, “Just feel like I’m going to be an apartment guy for the rest of my life…”

“Now, now, Stanford. You mustn’t be afraid to dream a little bigger. After all, I once saw myself living a solitary existence and look at me now. With Stan,” he edges closer to Ford, looking deeply into his eyes as he murmurs, “With _you_.”

His head darts forward slowly, as if shy, and Ford feels himself blush in sympathy as their lips gently meet. While they’ve all been together for a while, Preston is still skittish when it comes to this sort of thing, new to open displays of affection. It’s why Ford took no offense to his reaction in the car. Ford understands. He wasn’t so different himself all that long ago.

That’s the whole point of this week. That and, well, a little more, and thinking of that only worsens Ford’s blush. But if Preston can see the blush or feel the heat of it against his own skin, he doesn’t react to it. Instead he deepens the kiss by a few degrees, his arms coming around Ford and Ford lets himself be drawn close, lets himself be kissed, a pleased hum working out of his throat.

When Preston draws back he licks his lips, as if savoring the lingering feeling of Ford’s lips on his, tone husky as he gestures to the cabin, “Shall we?”

Ford nods and they make their way inside. The inside proves to be just as impressive as the outside. Polished wooden floors, a brick backed fireplace, and an overall industrial interior design with the furniture and art pieces. Dark blues, deep jewel greens, and bright pops of orange capture their eyes and Ford has to admire whoever put this place together.

They check out each of the rooms the place offers – the kitchen, the living room, the restrooms (one has a tub big enough for five and the other a steam shower that is already giving Ford inappropriate ideas), and finally the bedrooms. The only one Preston makes a remark about is the master, saying he thinks it best they do not stay in it. No doubt it’s Bruce and Hal’s and – to be fair – Ford gets it. He’s trying to respect his parent’s privacy. Nothing wrong with that.

Besides, the last room they venture to is up in the attic and it is the very best, in Ford’s opinion. While small, it has a bed that’s more than the perfect size for two, and the windows on either side of the ‘walls’ (It actually cuts into the ceiling, almost like skylights) are intriguing. Large, but not so much so as to offer anyone a peek inside. Just a touch of voyeurism that, frankly, Ford has to admit he has something of a taste for.

They’re in this room, Preston sitting on the edge of the bed, when the question finally comes, “So, Fordsy, what would you like to do?”

 _What wouldn’t I like to do_? Ford thinks, seeing Preston sitting there. The blush from earlier threatens to return and while he knows the _true_ reason they’re here, it’s not something he wants to share with Preston. Not just yet. Instead he decides to unveil the cover because, after all, it’s a good (and fun) one, “Well, one of my plans for us here is to go on a cryptid hunt.”

The expression on Preston’s face is skeptical at best but, considering it’s not completely dismissive, Ford finds himself growing excited as he reaches into his pocket. He draws out a ‘well-loved’ a piece of paper, creases from many folding and unfolding clear on the surface as he shows it to him, “See, you-you seemed sort of interested when I was looking at my anomalies book and-and cryptids are somewhat similar…”

He moves to sit next to Preston and Preston moves over, allowing him to do so. Ford carefully eases the paper into Preston’s hands, which details the latest sighting of Tahoe Tessie, “This is Tessie. She’s-she’s like our own Nessie.”

“Nessie?”

Ford nods, “The Loch Ness Monster. Albeit Nessie was never seen by someone as credible as Jacques Cousteau, which some people claim Tessie was. Although some say Cousteau was talking about a bunch of dead bodies that the mob may have-!”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Preston holds up a hand, “Back up. You…you want us to go searching for this creature?”

“I mean, only if you want to,” Ford amends, but he knows how desperately eager he sounds. It’s half the reason his words ran together, repeated near one another. The thrill! The euphoria! The search for anomalies, the supernatural, and any and all unexplained science always gets him amped. It’s all he’s ever wanted to do – explore, learn more, learn _everything_. Sometimes he feels like he’d do just about _anything_ to do it – to expand his mind, his knowledge…

Preston look at the paper and then back to Ford, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth, “Isn’t-? Isn’t this something you should be doing with your brother? No doubt Stanley-!”

“Oh,” Ford waves a dismissive hand, “We hunted for the Jersey Devil when we were kids! Don’t worry – you’re not usurping my first monster hunt or anything. Besides, when I told him about this he agreed it was a good idea. Well,” he sighs, thinking of Stan’s exact words on the subject, “More or less…”

Stan’s exact words had been along the lines of how he didn’t think a monster hunt was Preston’s kind of tea. Or aphrodisiac. At which point he had suggested a compilation of lurid ideas, none of which ford felt comfortable sharing, much less thinking about.

Preston, for his part, visibly relaxes and Ford feels touched at the sight. Knowing how much Preston cares about Stanley, cares about their brotherly bond, only makes Ford love him more.

…not that they’ve used _that_ word. No, Ford and Preston have had yet to say the big ‘L’ to one another. Ford is also reasonably sure Stan and Preston haven’t said it to one another either. It’s forthcoming, surely, because Ford truly _does_ feel it. But there’s this odd stigma attached to the sentiment – this bashfulness.

Ford is sure Preston feels the same way, but to say it first, to put yourself – your _heart_ – just out there in the open like that…

Ford draws his thoughts away from that mental mine field, and instead chooses to focus on the present, “I figured this might be a fun activity for us. We can do other things too, of course. Swim in the lake, watch films, go shopping – anything you want, really, but like I said – thought this might be neat. Not to mention there’s probably some interesting plant life around if there’s something as unique as Tessie here. Maybe an obscure kind of flora or fauna just waiting to be discovered.”

Preston grins, “Unique plant life, eh?”

Ford nudges Preston’s shoulder with his own, “I know what you like…”

“Seducing me with horticulture,” Preston turns to him, eyes bright, his smile infectious, “Sweet talker…”

“So? Do you want to?”

Preston looks back at the paper again and then begins nodding. Ford does his very best not to fist pump and whoop with joy. Instead he snatches the paper from Preston’s fingers and folds it back up, putting it back in his jeans back pocket, “But to back track – this _is_ about you. Remember? Giving you a chance to experience a relationship firsthand. So, while our hunt for Tessie is _one_ of my plans, the biggest one is you. As such, I think the first thing we should do here is something _you_ want to do.”

“Something _I_ want to do?”

Ford nods, “C’mon, Pres, isn’t there anything you ever imagined doing with a boyfriend? Or-or on a date? Or-?”

Watching color flood into Preston’s cheeks makes Ford’s own cheeks flush and Preston shifts about, coughing into a fist before he mumbles almost under his breath, “There…there is one thing…”

“Yeah?”

“But, um,” Preston rubs at the back of his neck, his nerves very clear, “It’s…it’s quite embarrassing. Childish, really…”

“It’s okay,” Ford promises earnestly, “You can tell me.”

“Will-will-will you…?” Preston is clearly having trouble asking, still squirming where he’s sitting, and Ford is just about to urge him on again when he asks, “Will you…h-hold me?”

The last two words are uttered in such a quiet whisper Ford almost misses them entirely. He puts it together and blinks, surprised, “You want me to hold you?”

Preston crosses his arms, not meeting Ford’s eyes as his voice becomes strong with heated accusation, “I know how it sounds, Pines. Ridiculous! Pathetic! Wanting-wanting someone to-to hold me like a child. As if that’s something I should want when I’m a man full grown-!”

“Yes,” Ford says and Preston is still rambling on about how he shouldn’t want such a thing for a full minute before the word seems to sink in. So much so that he repeats it as if he misheard, “Y-Yes?”

Ford nods and he scoots back on the bed until he’s up near the head of it. He lies down, patting the empty space next to him. Preston visibly swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing, before he wordlessly follows suit. Once he’s up next to Ford, lying fully to one side Ford asks, “Do you want us to be spoons or do you want me to lie flat?”

“…what does utensils have to do with anything?”

Ford can’t help but burst into laughter at that and just as Preston is about to rise in a huff, he grabs him, shaking his head as he catches his breath, “No, no – I’m-I’m not laughing _at_ you. I’m laughing at-! Here, here…”

He motions for Preston to turn on his side and, surprisingly, he does so. Once there, Ford cuddles up against his back, arms wrapping around him, “Th-this, Preston. _This_ is spoons. I’m the big one, you’re the little one. See?”

“Ah,” Preston breathes, “Yes, yes…I think so.”

“Stan really likes this,” Ford confesses against one of Preston’s shoulders, “I do too. It’s okay to like to be held, Pres. To cuddle.”

Preston doesn’t comment on that, but Ford feels some of the tension unspool from him. Tentatively Preston asks, “What was the other-?”

Ford rolls over fully onto his back and urges Preston to do the same, once there, Ford draws him close, rests Preston’s head over his heart. And it’s at this moment that Preston just…melts. All of his weight dissolves, puddle like, as he whispers against Ford’s chest with a catch in his throat, “Yes. This. This is what I wanted…what I want.”

Ford keeps his arms wrapped around him. Kisses the top of his scalp and smiles to himself, feeling a tad bit melancholy. He knows a lot about Preston’s past now, knows his childhood. How must it feel? To finally be held? To finally be touched? The fact that his boyfriend is so starved for this simple sort of affection…it hurts.

Hurts to know he suffered and for so long.

Ford’s grip tightens and he kisses his hair again.

 _But not anymore_ , he thinks, _not anymore_.

**Author's Note:**

> The board game names were all featured in an episode of Gravity Falls. The sword mentioned is the [Sword of State (Isle of Man)](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sword_of_State_\(Isle_of_Man\)). If you wish to visit me on tumblr, feel free! I'm at [cellard0ors](https://cellard0ors.tumblr.com/)!


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